


The Hotness of You, Doofus

by mrs_leary (julie)



Series: The Hotness of You, Doofus [1]
Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-13
Updated: 2009-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/mrs_leary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bradley can tell Colin is a bit down following a phone interview, and pesters him to talk about it – then mounts a campaign to try to convince Colin of how beautiful he is! (At which point he may or may not be channelling the author.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hotness of You, Doofus

**Author's Note:**

> _**CM:** Bradley has a bit of advantage because he gets to look cool immediately with his sword and armour and everything. Whereas I am made to seem silly while filming, but get to look cool afterwards._

♦

Colin ended the call once the three–way interview was over, but his mobile rang again before he’d even had the chance to put it down. The display read ‘Bradley’. Colin sighed and answered with a noncommittal, ‘Yeah.’

‘I can’t believe you just said that!’

‘Hello, Bradley.’

‘You didn’t mean it, right?’

Another sigh. He really wasn’t in the mood for Bradley’s boisterousness today. ‘Didn’t mean what, exactly?’

‘That you look silly.’

‘Of course I meant it. Fine work, if you can get it, being paid to look clumsy and foolish.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

‘I’d have thought you’d have taken the compliment, seeing as I also said you look cool.’

A moment passed. ‘Of course I’m cool, but this isn’t about me.’

Colin said, ‘Look, I have to be getting on. We’ll talk later, yeah?’

Bradley was reluctant to let him go, but didn’t put up too much of a fight. Soon enough Colin was free to make a pot of coffee and take it through to his worn old sofa with the novel he was reading, _Of Love and Other Demons_. He settled in for a quiet afternoon at home.

♦

Except of course the phone rang again about half an hour later.

‘Hello, Bradley.’

‘You’re playing the title character!’ Bradley cried out in what seemed rather excessive frustration. ‘You get top billing! In a show that might run for five years! It’s a dream job for an actor, and you’re only just starting out.’

‘I know,’ he replied as reasonably as he could. ‘I’m not ungrateful.’

‘How d’you think _I_ feel? This is meant to be the _Arthurian_ legends. And Arthur’s just your sidekick.’

Colin sighed. ‘Don’t mind me. I’m just jealous cos you get to be strong and beautiful and fight with a sword.’

‘But the whole bloody show’s about you! Merlin’s always right, and the solution always involves magic. Anyway, _you’re_ beautiful.’

‘I’m geeky. Everyone’s full of quips about bowl haircuts. And they make fun of my ears.’

Bradley sniffed. ‘I’m sure they only even notice cos your ears are adorable.’

‘Yeah, this is great coming from the guy who did a stupid Merlin impression on _GMTV_ the other day. Obviously you think he’s as much a fool as I do.’

‘Oh.’ Bradley was silent for a moment. But then instead of apologising or disclaiming or whatever, he just cried out, ‘God, what has got _into_ you?’

Colin was getting a bit aggravated by now. ‘Just leave it, Bradley. This is _not_ a good time.’

‘All right,’ said Bradley. So Colin ended the call without saying bye.

♦

Bradley lasted all of fifteen minutes this time, during which Colin read and re–read a very short paragraph which made no sense to him whatsoever, and not because of Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s prose style.

 _‘What?’_ Colin snarled into the phone.

‘ _Why_ is this not a good time?’

‘Bugger off, Bradley!’

‘Come on, tell me. What’s wrong? You sounded OK for the interview.’

‘Well, I can at least act well enough to be professional for an interview, can’t I?’ This was intended and taken as a rhetorical question.

‘So, what’s wrong? What’s going on?’

‘Will you _please_ go fuck yourself.’

Bradley was of course completely unfazed. ‘If you _really_ didn’t want to tell me, you would have let me go through to voicemail.’

Huh. ‘Bastard.’

‘Yeah, but I’m a loveable bastard.’

Colin thought for a moment. Bradley was a hard guy to say no to once he got this focussed, so Colin would have to offer something. Just enough to satisfy him. ‘Look,’ he eventually said, ‘I got dumped. Which is kinda depressing when we weren’t even really seeing each other yet.’

‘Dumped in anticipation!’

‘Yeah. Apparently I’m “not worth the bother of even trying”.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘No.’

‘God…’ Bradley sounded suitably disgusted. ‘Well, this stupid bint obviously doesn’t know a good thing when she sees it. _She’s_ the one who’s not worth the bother.’

The genuine sympathy was completely undermined by the utter cluelessness. The Utter Cluelessness of Bradley James. ‘Yeah,’ Colin eventually responded. ‘Right.’ He sighed. And then he sighed again cos he was so damned tired of sighing all the time, it was getting just so incredibly tedious. ‘Look, can I go now?’

‘I guess. If you really have better things to do today than talk with me.’

‘I do, actually.’

And Bradley said archly, ‘You just keep telling yourself that, Morgan, if it helps you get by.’

And the phone went dead.

♦

When his mobile rang again, he almost threw it out the window. But he didn’t. And he didn’t let the call go through to voicemail, either. ‘Bradley!’ he said with all the irony in the world. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’

‘I’ve been on the internets!’ Bradley announced, sounding very pleased with himself. ‘Your fans have created a whole new word for you: adorkable. That’s gonna get you laid as often as you like.’

Colin groaned. ‘Piss off, Bradley.’ Though even he could tell he didn’t really mean it. He stretched out on his back on the sofa, and found a cushion for his head.

‘Half the time, when I’m asked for an autograph or photo, they talk about you. More than half. I might be pretty, but you’re gorgeous.’

‘A _dork_ able, don’t you mean?’

‘Is this just about you getting dumped?’

‘Yeah, thanks for bringing that up again. I’d almost forgotten.’

‘Colin,’ Bradley said very earnestly, ‘I had you down as the least insecure actor I ever met.’

‘Well… then I had to play a clumsy flap–eared idiot next to the quintessential knight. Who’s beautiful.’

‘Don’t keep saying that.’

‘You’re beautiful, Bradley.’

‘Idiot. You know that’s not what I meant.’

‘You are _so_ beautiful,’ he teased in his sultriest voice. It didn’t even take much acting skill. Hardly any at all, really.

‘So are you!’ Bradley declared brightly. ‘I promise!’

Colin just laughed. A genuinely amused laugh. Which he supposed was quite something, given the past twenty–four hours. ‘I’m gonna hang up now.’

‘OK, gorgeous. Talk to you later!’

‘Prat,’ he said before ending the call. And then his smile turned wry as he realised how very fondly he’d said it. Oh well. It’s not like Bradley would pick up on it or anything. The Complete Obliviousness of Bradley James.

♦

After a while, Colin’s phone chimed to announce the arrival of a text message. No prizes for guessing who it was from. ‘BJ sez check ur email.’

 _Oh **god**._ So much for his quiet afternoon. It took Colin a while to boot up the damned computer, and when he finally found the right message, he saw there wasn’t any text. Just an attached PowerPoint file named colin–morgan–is–beautiful. When he opened it up he wasn’t expecting sound as well, so the piano intro made him jump. Then he dropped his face into his hands when he realised what the song was. _Oh god oh god oh god you stupid bastard._ No prizes for guessing. Joe Cocker had a great deal to answer for.

Colin missed the first minute or so of the slideshow, but he got the general idea. There was a photo of Jethro with a caption: ‘Not to mention that incredible profile!’ This faded into one of a delighted Merlin: ‘He’s beautiful, ears and all, I don’t care what you say.’ An old one from his drama school days in _The Tempest_ : ‘You had me at “Hello”, you handsome devil.’ And a photo from _A Prayer for My Daughter_ : ‘So bloody beautiful! And what do I hear about you getting naked in this play? Where are the photos of _that_???!!!’ It all ended with Joe Cocker’s falsetto over Colin’s official headshot: ‘You’re downright pretty here, Morgan! So quit arguing with me.’

Once it was over, Colin shut down the computer. Sat there thinking for a while. He didn’t reach any useful conclusions. But he knew what he was expected to do. And he couldn’t come up with a good enough reason why not. He picked up the phone, found Bradley in the address book, and hit the call button.

‘No, it’s not Bradley, I’m just his voicemail. But talk to me anyway. Go on.’ In the filthiest voice possible: _‘You **know** you **want** to…’_

Colin huffed a laugh. ‘Does your mum _ever_ leave you a message after that?’ Then he lost it for a moment. ‘Um, it’s Colin. All right.’ And that was pretty much all he had to say, wasn’t it? He said it again for good measure. ‘All right.’ And he hung up.

♦

Bradley called back about ten minutes later. ‘So, _I’m_ in London, _you’re_ in London, let’s get a drink.’

‘OK. Where?’

‘The Prince of Wales.’

God, there were hundreds of pubs named that. ‘Which one?’

‘The one near you.’

‘Yeah, OK. When?’

‘I’ll give you five minutes to get down here, Morgan, or I’m walking out on you.’

A blank moment slipped past. ‘Are you stalking me, Bradley…?’

‘No.’ But the defensive tone in his voice gave a different answer. ‘Not really.’

‘Huh,’ said Colin, and ended the call without saying anything else. Not that he thought that would rattle Bradley even a little bit.

Colin just stood there for a minute or two, trying once more to think. But when that still didn’t work, he grabbed the nearest t–shirt and pulled it on over his shirt. Grabbed his keys and wallet, and headed out.

Bradley was at a moderately secluded table by the side windows of the pub, with two bottles of Corona waiting on the table. ‘ _Are_  you…?’ Bradley asked once Colin was near enough.

He cringed, god damn it. ‘Am I what?’

‘Hung over.’ Bradley indicated Colin’s t–shirt, which read: ‘HANGOVER. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.’

‘Oh. No.’ Just fragile. Very very fragile. Colin sat down and grabbed the nearest Corona, and swallowed about half of it. Which actually didn’t really help. He wondered vaguely if he was growing up, but he suspected not; beer still seemed like a cure for all ills.

For a while they did the small talk thing, exchanging news and scurrilous rumours about the _Merlin_ cast and crew, sorting out when they were each travelling to Wales and where they’d be staying, confusing each other about what dates they’d be in France. But it didn’t take long until they both got bored with that.

They’d finished the beers. Before either of them could suggest another round, Colin decided to get to the point. ‘What’s this about, Bradley?’

And Bradley simply said, ‘The hotness of you, doofus.’

They stared at each other for a long moment, both of them utterly raw and vulnerable. Colin’s heart was hammering in his chest.

Then Bradley added, ‘I’m going to be kissing you soon. You want me to do that in your local?’

Colin manfully struggled to keep a straight face, but then Bradley cracked into a chagrined smile, so Colin went with the joke, retorting in horror–struck tones, ‘You’re going to kiss me in my _what_ …?’

They’d drawn a few stares by now. ‘Idiot. Take me back to yours if you don’t want it to get any more embarrassing.’

‘All right,’ Colin said. But he didn’t move, and neither did Bradley. Colin stared down at the table. For some reason both his hands were lying there like beached starfish, either side of his empty beer bottle. ‘Look, uh –’

‘You don’t have to worry.’

Colin laughed. This was mad. ‘Don’t I?’

‘You don’t have to worry about me saying anything stupid like you’re not worth the bother. Cos I’ve fallen in love with you.’

 _Huh!_ Colin thought he’d actually gasped or exclaimed or something. Scrambling to regroup, he said, ‘Bradley. You do know I’m gay, don’t you?’

Despite everything they’d already said and not said that day, Bradley looked a bit startled. ‘Well, I do now.’

‘God, we were living in each other’s pockets for eight months last year, and you never figured that out.’

Bradley shrugged, and then said loftily, ‘I try not to label people.’

Colin snorted.

‘And anyway, it’s not like I didn’t wonder for a while, but then you slept with what’s–her–name. In France, from the town. Claudette. I know you did!’

‘What did you just say about labels?’

‘Hey, it won’t be _my_ fault if the Gay Police come and take your sex licence away. How many points do you lose for each straight bonk?’

‘Sometimes it’s just easier,’ Colin found himself explaining quite seriously. ‘By which I mean less complicated. And it’s not as if I don’t like women. I just…’

‘Like men better?’ Bradley ventured.

‘I guess.’ Was it as simple as that? He really didn’t know. Colin was feeling a bit like he didn’t know anything much any more.

Which was a pity, for Bradley wanted more information. ‘OK, so you’re gay, and you’re telling me this because…?’

Colin frowned. ‘Because… Well, I don’t know what this is for you. But if you thought it was just gonna be two straight guys fooling around, then… it’s not. If you thought it wouldn’t mean anything to either of us… it’s not gonna be like that for me.’

‘Fooling around is fine,’ Bradley said. He’d crossed his arms at some stage, and slumped in his chair, and was now addressing his own sneakered feet which were stuck out in front of him. ‘If one us actually knows what he’s doing, that’s even better.’

‘All right,’ said Colin.

‘But I meant it. I’m in love with you, Morgan. So if you’re worried that I’m not gonna try and make this work – ’specially as we’re going to be, well, living in each other’s pockets again soon – and if I –’

‘Bradley,’ he interrupted.

‘Yeah?’ A glance of those vulnerable blue eyes from the midst of a scowl.

‘Can we start again from the bit where you said, “Take me back to yours”?’

Bradley kind of sagged as if in relief, and then after a moment he smiled. ‘All right. Colin. Take me back to yours if you don’t want me to scandalise these good people.’

‘Sure. Come on.’ And they were both standing.

♦

It seemed as if in the very next moment Colin was throwing the deadbolt across, and he was home, and then Bradley’s hands were at his waist spinning him round, and he was pushed back up against the door with a grunt from one of them and a growl from the other, and Bradley was pushing up against him, all of him pushing and needing as if there couldn’t possibly be a thing such as _too much_ contact with each other, and they were kissing, god, _giving_ themselves to this long lush passionate mouthy kiss.

‘Bradley,’ he said as Bradley’s mouth finally left his and instead attacked his throat. ‘Bradley. Bedroom. Now.’

‘How far?’

Colin moaned. Bradley’s hands were up under his shirt and t–shirt, splayed hard against his ribs, and then running down and back around, until they were slipping into his jeans – his loosest jeans luckily, though it was still getting a bit snug down there – and wrapping hard around, each hand encompassing a buttock. ‘God, too far,’ Colin said. ‘No time.’ And forced his own hands down in between them where their bodies pressed together, began fumbling with the button and zipper of Bradley’s jeans. God, they were both rock–hard.

‘I’ve got to –’ Bradley muttered.

Colin found himself sliding down the door, which was painful with the ridges of the panels sticking into his back – but then Bradley hauled him forward, and somehow managed to rip both of Colin’s shirts off over his head in one go even as they sank to the floor. Lying tangled together there on the hall carpet, moving, always moving as if they couldn’t get enough of each other. And they couldn’t, so.

Bradley staring down at Colin’s bare chest as if maddened, his lower arm wrapped under Colin’s waist and that hand grasping Colin’s butt within his jeans, his other hand now slowly trailing from Colin’s waist to the bone of his denim–clad hip, as if not quite yet bold enough to –

‘You’ve got to what?’ Colin asked, having no idea what Bradley would want or expect. As a straight guy he might expect to fuck, or he might very much _not_ want to.

But Bradley just lifted those hot blue eyes to his and said, ‘Touch you. See you. Can I touch you?’

‘Please. But soon as you do, I’m gonna go off like the fireworks on new year’s eve.’

‘Like it’s your birthday. I love how they start your birthday with fireworks.’

Colin moaned – he wasn’t too proud to admit he moaned at that. He didn’t dare touch Bradley’s cock yet, but he finally got that zipper undone, and he pushed Bradley’s jeans down a bit lower on his hips, not far enough to reveal him. Then he got his own jeans open. Pushed them lower still, exposing himself to the cool air. His hands shaking now. God, what if Bradley didn’t like what he saw, what if he changed his mind when confronted like this?

But Bradley was gazing helplessly, lustily, and his hands were kneading at Colin’s flesh, and he kissed Colin again, another gorgeous lush kiss – and then their hands were on each other, and Colin was groaning into Bradley’s mouth, and he was coming, the fireworks exploding in white and bright blue and purple to a crescendo of music, and then Bradley was pushing over onto him, thrusting into his hand, coming, coming, semen dashing and spurting and sliding between them as Bradley shouted out in relief and triumph and renewed need. And it went on and on and on…

And then even as they finally quietened, and the joyous intensity faded, Bradley was pressing kisses to Colin’s mouth, his forehead, his nose, his throat, every part of his face, murmuring, ‘I love you, Colin, I love you, you’re so beautiful, please, you’re so very beautiful…’

And Colin answered, ‘I’m loving you, too, so.’

‘Thank you, oh god, thank you, I love you so much already…’

Colin lay there holding this precious man close, treasuring him. Treasuring the Good Heart of Bradley James.

♦

Later, once they’d finally made it to the bed, there was time to talk. Bradley wanted reassurance, but not about any of the topics Colin had expected. ‘You didn’t mean all that about Merlin being silly, did you? That was just other stuff, right?’

Colin smiled at him. ‘No, he’s awesome. We’re gonna have a lot of fun this year.’

‘Good.’ Bradley stretched out beside him, naked and totally comfortable – then he rolled in close and pressed against Colin, looking as if all was right with the world.

‘You know,’ said Colin, ‘the Straight Police are gonna be revoking your sex licence soon.’

‘I’ll have to apply for a new one from the Gay Police, I guess.’

‘I don’t think you qualify yet.’

‘Huh. So maybe you can help me with that. Are we talking about a specific number of orgasms, or a particular list of acts…?’

Colin was grinning fit to burst at this point, and trying not to let Bradley see. ‘Bit of both, I should think.’

‘Better get on with it, then.’

‘All right,’ he said. What else was there to say? ‘All right.’

♦

**Author's Note:**

> ♦ The article where I found the interview quote is [here](http://gealach-ros.livejournal.com/6616.html), thanks to **gealach_ros**.  
>  ♦ The various photos I mention can be found on the Colin Morgan facebook page [here](http://www.facebook.com/pages/Colin-Morgan/78019115323?ref=mf#/pages/Colin-Morgan/78019115323) and the _A Prayer for My Daughter_ site [here](http://youngvic.e-flyers.org.uk/aprayerformydaughter/photoevidence.php).  
>  ♦ I know that ‘adorkable’ doesn’t apply solely to Colin Morgan, but it suited this version of Bradley to leap to the conclusion that it did.  
> ♦ And the story’s title, of course, comes from the _Buffy_ episode _Once More With Feeling_. Just gotta keep them Buffy references coming! Bradley would expect nothing less.


End file.
